


Sweetest

by primetime



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primetime/pseuds/primetime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They are just the sweetest, couple, ever," Pam hears Kelly sigh as they leave the office. Jim squeezes her hand gently and brings their joined hands up, impulsively, to kiss her knuckles, and she smiles down at her feet, and that's how they stand in the elevator all the way down. Pretty much PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetest

"They are just the sweetest, couple, ever," Pam hears Kelly sigh as they leave the office. Jim squeezes her hand gently and brings their joined hands up, impulsively, to kiss her knuckles, and she smiles down at her feet, and that's how they stand in the elevator all the way down.

When they get to the car, Jim opens his door but waits a second until Pam's in before he gets in too. It's freezing in the car, the cold crisp of a late January evening making them both of them shiver in their jackets, and while Jim gets the motor running she turns on the heat and the radio, fiddles with it until she hits the new Decemberists single and turns it down low and soft. He's not smiling but he looks good, his mouth easy. When she looks over as he turns out of the parking lot, his scarf has slipped down and she can see a long stripe of his neck exposed as he waits for a break in traffic, but he hikes it up against the cold as she's looking, covering it up.

By the time Jim turns into his driveway, the ice crunching underneath his tires, the car's heated up, a little too hot even. Pam always turns the heat up too high when she first gets in the car after it's been sitting out in the parking lot all day collecting frost, and now she's too hot, a little sweaty in her coat. He turns off the car but doesn't get out right away, both hands still on the wheel, and she waits on him silently.

It takes him a minute but he bites his lip and reaches over to touch her knee, just underneath her skirt, and she can feel his hand hot and damp through her tights.

"I know I was gonna make dinner," he says. "But, uh," and he stops, doesn't look at her, and she jumps in.

"Yeah, Jim - yeah," and she's barely got it out before he's on her, over her in her side of the car, pressing her down so that her back lands on the sharp cold snap of the window. His mouth is on hers, wide and large, and his hands are moving so restlessly on her knee, her shoulder, her neck, that it would feel like high school except there's too much purpose, she can feel him silently broadcasting his certainty, that he's gonna have her. She can feel his hand inch up her thigh, but suddenly it's not fast enough for her and she grabs it with both of her hands, slides down awkwardly a little bit so that she can slide his hand up the hot, damp inside of her thigh, the feeling of pressure over the slick glide of nylon, and he groans and shoves his face into her neck, touching at her with his long fingers through two layers of nylons and panties, already almost soaked though she can barely distinguish between the wet between her legs and the damp sweat feeling from her inner thighs. He presses down hard, almost too hard, so close to where she wants it, but it sends shocks up her and she wants him, everywhere.

He pulls his body back though, leaves his hand where it is, and she can see his hard-on through his pants but he's looking at her face as he presses at her and she squirms, her hands moving restlessly from his wrist to the condensation on the inside of the window to the seam between the seats.

She can tell he wants to speak but he's just not saying anything, he tries and clears his throat and tries again. "Let's, go," he says, not looking at her, and pulls his hand away. He tries again, "let's go," and she nods around the thickness of her throat and opens the car door, pulling down her skirt.

Mark's car was in the driveway in front when they pulled in but Pam thanks god when he's nowhere to be seen when they come in the house, probably in his room or maybe playing video games in the basement. Jim closes the front door behind them and doesn't look at her as he kicks off his shoes. Her first boot goes easy but she fumbles at the second one and she can feel Jim's impatience; he's running one balled up fist up and down his thigh, and she tries to concentrate on her boot and not on the tension she can seen in his thighs and chest and face, but her fingers keeps fumbling and she can't get it off and she runs out of time before he loses it. He steps forward and she straightens up to see his face and he basically shoves her into the wall in his gentle Jim way, presses against her so that she can feel the expanse of his chest, and every breath he takes she feels in her body at the same time she hears him pant it in her ear. He's hard, she can feel that too even through the thick layer of his coat.

He tangles a hand in her hair, pulling a little bit as he guides her face up to bite at her, at her mouth, at her cheek, up until he's got his mouth on the soft vulnerable spot where her neck meets her jawline underneath her ear.

"Pam," he gets out, and all she can do is think of how different it sounds from how he is at work, and she wonders if anyone in the office thinks about what Jim would be like in bed, wonders if they think he'd be the soft and sweet and careful guy he always is around her when they're at work or out with her friends or having dinner with her mom. He kneels, suddenly, touches underneath her knee to push it up, and she balances against the wall as he yanks off her boot.

She falls a little and has to put a hand on his shoulder to catch herself, and he looks up at her hot and dark and crosses an arm across his body to put his hand on hers. Then he stands up again, her arm rising with him and coming to loop around his neck, and he lets out a ragged sigh and steps back, waits until she starts to walk toward the stairs and follows close behind her, so close he's almost stepping on her heels, so close it'd be awkward if it was anyone else breathing down her neck and making her shiver.

She pauses after she enters his bedroom, this thing between them too new to be completely comfortable there, and too shy to just go and sit on his bed. Jim turns and closes the door with a click, takes off his coat and drapes it on his desk chair, and it's like the walk up the stairs has reminded him of who he usually is, and now she can tell he's holding himself back even though he's still hard.

"Are you - do you want-" Jim starts, his voice this forced, careful tone that she can tell is totally disconnected from his brain, from what's in his eyes whenever he makes eye contact with her and she can feel what he wants in her gut. That's pretty much all Pam can take, and so she takes a step toward Jim's bed and shrugs her coat off, lets it fall. He sucks in a breath from behind her and then she can feel his arms come around her waist, undo the tiny button at the bottom of her cardigan and start to work his way up, barely touching her except where he's leaning down so that his chest presses against her shoulders, and where the inside of his arms have circled around her as he fiddles with the buttons. He's so careful with her still, and Pam's breathing goes uneven as he pulls the cardigan off, baring her shoulders and leaning down to press his mouth to one.

She twists in his arms though, quick and careless, and fists his hands in the fabric of her shirt, fingers getting twisted in his tie, and Jim's yanked down probably painfully and she sees his nostrils flare before he puts his mouth on hers again, reaches down and grabs her right below her ass, right at the juncture of her thighs, and presses her to him hard, grinding into her a little. He pulls away long enough to pull her shirt over her head, and she tries to pull her nylons down at the same time and it's so fast it'd be awkward except that every time they bump she feels it shoot through her hot and electric. It makes her shiver so big that she's sure Jim notices, and he pushes her back on the bed, her head landing half on one of his pillows and he hasn't even taken his tie off and he shoves her knees up, spreads them apart, hooks his hands into her panties and pulls them off so roughly she hears something rip. He kneels on the floor and has his face at her pussy so fast she's not prepared and she almost kicks him in the head when he licks a hard stripe into her the first time.

He shoves two fingers into her almost right away, and Pam covers her mouth with her hands because all she can think about is when he leans on her desk and drums his fingers next to her box of jellybeans, and she doesn't want to compare them but they're the only things she has so of course she thinks of Roy, thicker to Jim's lanky body but whose fingers, body never felt so big inside her, over her. She comes pretty fast as he flicks at her with his tongue, comes pretty inconsiderately as she grabs at his hair (also longer, easier to wind her fingers into than Roy's) and tries hard to bite down on her loud gasps, to not buck up into his face between her legs.

The shocks running up her legs haven't even finished before Jim's up and slamming his bedside drawer open, shoving the contents around so that she can hear things dropping on the floor, and when he finally finds a condom he shoves it between his teeth to free his hands to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. He shoves them down, still has his tie and shirt on, and he'd look silly if he didn't look so serious as he stares at her. Pam leans up a bit, feels awkward and tries to close her legs, but Jim frowns and intervenes, shoving his body between them, pushing her up farther on the bed so that he can clamber on top of her.

She stares down at him, at the rough, ungraceful movements of his fingers as he rolls the condom on. He's not looking at her face either, one hand holding up the bottom of his untucked, rumpled shirt, so he can pay attention to the condom. He swears once he's got it on, hesitating without looking at her, hand around his dick, and Pam wraps a hand around his other shoulder and pulls him down, rocking her hips up. She's so wet now; she can feel the damp spot underneath him, on Jim's comforter. She's getting his bed all wet and he's gonna have to clean it tomorrow, unless he doesn't. Pam thinks about that until he sinks in, hiking her legs up around his waist as he stands by the bed. Thinks about him not washing his sheets tomorrow, as his breath stutters, low and warm, by her ear. They're taking it slow. She doesn't stay over more than one night in a row, not during the week. They're being careful and cautious about this, not wanting to ruin something they've both been wanting so bad.

And Jim - Jim's so careful with her. So careful she can tell he's still not sure he's got this. Got her.

So she thinks about that as he shoves into her, still gentle. Thinks about him kissing her goodbye at the door of her car tomorrow, sweet, and his soft eyes as he waves her away. Thinks about him driving home, eating dinner, getting into his bed, the unwashed sheets, so he can remember this and jerk off.

It still makes her crazy, the thought of Jim pulling at his own dick, the thought of his naked thighs, all the things she refused to let enter into her mind while she was with Roy.

"Pam," he pants out next to her ear, bent over all the way, and jerks her attention back to the feel of his dick in her, slick as hell. He pauses, leans back a little, almost searching for her attention, and she bites her lip a little when she sees him staring down. She props herself up on her elbows, feeling bashful, her thighs starting to feel sore, can't hold his gaze when he's inside her, right now.

"Jim," she says, almost a question, when the seconds pass and he holds himself still. His button down is covering where they're joined but she has the urge to cover herself with a hand anyway. She can't, though, because he's in her.

"It makes me fucking crazy," he says, and she can feel her brow furrow. She shifts up to place a hand on his chest, through his shirt, and the movement makes them both gasp at the new angle.

"What," she says, a little timid.

"Noth-" he starts, and then cuts himself off and shakes his head, presses one hand over hers on his chest for a second, then shoves her gently back down and starts to thrust into her again, slow and steady. But not patient, she can feel it; not patient like he was for the years he waited on her. He pushes one of her knees up, his tie swinging between her bare breasts, to get deeper inside her, but he's looking at her weird, like too intense, and she has to press this.

"Jim-" and that's enough, and he cuts her off, "You're - this is - for good, right, because it makes me fucking crazy,"

"yeah," she says.

"That for years he was here, while I sat around like a fucking asshole, he was, he got you like this," he says, fucking her, staring down.

"Jim," she says, and he puts his mouth on hers and she strokes his hair, feeling tender in a way that kind of hurts.

He touches at her face with one hand, pushes her chin up so he can mouth his way down her neck, nips at the curve of a breast, passes his tongue over her nipple, and she arches up underneath him, remembering the nights she'd spent with Roy panting over her, trying not to imagine what Jim would be like at four in the morning coming home drunk from a party, grinning at her, sliding in between their sheets (she thought they'd have blue sheets) and rolling over to lean on top of her, kiss her soft until she'd laugh and push his fingers where she'd need them and he'd give up trying to get her off with only drunken coordination and slide down, push her up and eat her out so sloppy and messy that she'd be glad he hadn't turned the light on so he couldn't see her fall apart, but he'd know and he'd kiss the vulnerable, soft inside of her thigh and she'd feel his grin.

"Jim, yeah," she says, and tears up a little, and he looks up from where he's mouthing at her breast and looks just stricken before he's kissing her again, slowing his strokes, and she shoves up and pushes him over and straddles him on his bed, reaching down to angle him back inside her when he slips out a little.

"It's dumb, right?" he says, trying for the laugh-it-all-off humor of the office, and she reaches down to shove his shirt up and touch at his stomach.

"You're dumb, Halpert," she says, places her hands on his shoulders and starts to ride him, feeling his thighs jerk up behind her automatically at her motion.

"I'm sorry," he pants out, and she manages a smile down at him.

"Don't, okay," she says, trying not to let the feel of his dick in her take over her mind. "Don't be sorry."

"Okay," he says, reaching between them to stroke at her clit, to touch at where he's entering her.

"'Cause you're my best friend, Halpert," Pam says, but she doesn't know if he hears it because he's coming inside her, his body twisting up underneath her, and when his head falls back she reaches down to undo his tie and concentrates so hard that when he reaches around her with one long arm, lifts her a little to roll her back over, to get on top of her and kiss her deep, urgent, it surprises her. But when he tries to move back down her body, she clutches at him a bit, feeling his chest expand and contract against her body unsteadily.

"No, okay?" she says. "Just stay up here a little bit," she says, closing her eyes against his face turning to worry, and leans up to feel her eyelashes brush against his cheek.

"Okay," he repeats after her, and Pam just holds on.


End file.
